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Poems of the Week
New MacDonald
by Alex Steelsmith
“Senators embrace AI on the farm… Artificial intelligence is already
[allowing] tractors to identify weeds and tailor herbicide spraying…”
—MSN.com
New MacDonald has a farm;
Nothing fails to grow.
Why are weeds not causing harm?
AI, AI—Oh!
Hippothesis
by Gail White
“Officials estimate that about 170 hippos… now roam Colombia, and the population could grow
to 1000 by 2035, posing a serious threat to the country’s ecosystem.”
—The New York Times
Within this Latin nation,
by 2035,
the hippopopulation
could be in overdrive.
The numbers keep on soaring
and posing threats of doom
with hippocrits ignoring
the hippo in the room.
Who knows where this is leading?
We have a lot to lose,
so daily I’ll be reading
the hippopotenews.
O Quercy!
by Julia Griffin
“Scientists say mystery of how red wine headaches occur may be solved…
A flavanol called quercetin… is processed in the body into various substances.
One of these, quercetin glucuronide, turned out to be particularly effective at blocking
the enzyme that converts acetaldehyde into acetate.”
—The Guardian
A flavanol known as quercetin,
As is clear to the veriest cretin,
Turns its glucuronide
On acetaldehyde,
Which explains why red wine does your tête in.
Carpe Proditor!
by Marshall Begel
“Agency workers turn [invasive] carp into double agents by capturing them, implanting transmitters
and tossing them back. … Carp often clump in schools in the spring and fall. Armed with the traitor
carp’s location… anglers can head to that spot, drop their nets and remove multiple [invasive] fish
from the ecosystem.”
—Associated Press
I’ve gathered together the carp of our shoal
Because I suspect we are hiding a mole!
I don’t think that I’m overstating the threat—
There’s too many times we’ve encountered the net.
Now, Hook-Lip, I’m confident you’re not the spy.
I’ve swum next to you since before we were fry!
The Silver-Fin Brothers may have their own school,
But that doesn’t make them a fisherman’s tool.
Antenna-Head, here, has been scouting around,
But says there aren’t obvious clues to be found.
So keep alert—it’d be a shame if we built a
Community just to be ground to gefilte!
(For more witty poems, read our current issue or visit our Poems of the Week archive)